


Coffee Time

by ChibiStarr



Category: Den lengste reisen | The Longest Journey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiStarr/pseuds/ChibiStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kian gets cravings after sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Time

Silence reigned in the room, almost perversely silent and still after everything that had gone on inside that room during the night. The walls should not be so cold , so empty and gray. There should be cracks inside of them, struck into the stone and widened by their passion and the fire in their words. Likho’s nails were enough to scour stone, so Kian believed after they had raked across his back and drew bloody furrows into his skin. Something that made him howl all the louder.

No, not cracked, the walls should have been torn down and rubble around them. The other rebels would have stared in, curious and shocked at the two entangled in the bed. Cerulean and bronze tangled together, a combination no one in Arcadia would have ever expected to see but it worked. Somehow it worked.

Except when it didn’t.

Likho was always so cold, in manners and words, even his body heat. It was perfect for Kian, another human would have made the room unbearably hot but his coldness seemed to make everything even out and Kian could lay next to him afterwards without even panting while the last traces of fire left their bodies. The Dolmari’s arm was slung around him casually, but possessive in its laziness. Kian knew that arm could tighten within a moment to crush him and it only made him love the feeling all the more. There was a soft heart buried under all of that logic and steel in Kian’s soul, but he loved a strong, solid foundation to rest on. Like Likho, even though he was too stuffed with thorns and fire that even getting close to him burned. But Kian always did love bobbing for nettles back when he was a child, so what was pleasure without a bit of pain?

He was, however, a bit annoyed when his cravings came after their sex. He knew Likho would not indulge him in such things, it was simply not in his character, so that would leave Kian to either get up and fix his own desires or lay in bed with the want tormenting him. Sore and aching all over, stretched and filled to the brim, all he could think of afterwards was a good, strong cup of Azadi coffee. Made fresh and bitter from the crops that grew in the east, sweetened by the sugar canes in the south and a hint of that delectable spicy sweetness of cinnamon. Goddess, how he missed that. The sweet burn that curled around his jaw whenever he ate a dish seasoned with it. Such a common spice in Azadir was practically a delicacy in Marcuria and the few they did have he kept under careful watch.

The only ones who really ate it anyway was him and Enu and he knew the Zhid had no idea where they kept it stored. But how he did want a taste of that delicious spice. It would make the warmth curling in his veins all the more sweet and passionate and add another layer of pleasure to his soul. He wasn’t really sure how Likho would take him getting out of the bed, but the more and more that desire curled around his tongue and goaded his exhausted muscles into moving the more he didn’t care.

It was only his sudden movement and Likho’s surprise that stopped the arm from catching him when he slid out of their bed to rest his bare feet against the chilled floor. He could feel the glare prickling his skull and the rustle of sheets did not bode well for him but he was already sliding a robe over his chilled form and covering his feet with sandals by the time he had turned around. An angry eye glared at him coolly, not quite as offended as he thought Likho would be, measured out by a careful, analytical gaze. Like sharpened dagger left out in the snow. “And where are you going, Apostle?” was the quiet grumble in Likho’s throat. Oh no, he was angry, just hiding it well.

But Kian was never afraid of him. After all he had been the Apostle, he had faced many dangers before. Likho so casually throwing that title around, using it as more of an insult, made his annoyance flare though. “To make some coffee,” he said, much calmer than Likho and in a carefully calculated way to make his irritation come to life. Likho was so easy to anger, especially since that seemed to be his constant emotional state. Poking the Dolmari was easily playing with a very dangerous fire but Kian could not help himself, he loved the thrill of the danger that it presented. Besides when Likho took his anger out on him it often turned into…other things that he enjoyed far more often.

White brows furrowed over his scowling eyes. Already that was a point for Kian. “Why do you insist on constantly drinking that strange Azadi brew?” he questioned, crossing his arms. All irked, like a cat being petted the wrong way.

“Because it is wonderful?” Kian replied with a shrug, his own words sounding doubtful. “I like it and want some, is that enough?”

“No. Come back to bed.”

Ah, so that was the issue. Kian could all but feel the smile on his face as he turned away. “In a moment,” he said, making his way to the door. “I will come back with plenty for you.”

An outright refusal only made the Dolmari more irritated. Likho never was good at hiding his anger. “I do not want it,” he said gruffly. “It is too exotic. It does not have magic in it but it like a potion all the same. I don’t trust it.”

“If anything that makes it more trustworthy,” Kian quipped over his shoulder as he opened the door. “I’ll be sure to add plenty of cinnamon as well. To make it softer.”

“No! Not more of your damned Azadi—“ The door closed before he could finish, turning the rest of his sentence into an indistinct muffle.

Kian allowed himself to relish in the victory for a few moments, grinning, before turning and running. It wouldn’t take long for Likho to scramble out of the bed and put on his clothes. He at least wanted to be out of sight when that door swung open again.


End file.
